Unfortunately, he didn't have a choice. He needed to marry and soon. Catrina was the one person who would make that happen for him. She needed something and so did he. Neither of them coerced the other into the arrangement. It was all business and would remain that way for as long as they needed it to.

"Hello," Cecelia finally said, her voice strained with forced civility.

Catrina smiled. "It's nice to meet you."

"And you," Cecelia replied tightly, her stony expression unwavering.

The tension in the room only seemed to skyrocket as the two women watched one another.

Catrina examined the food preparations spread across the counters and asked, "Would you like another pair of hands to help?"

"No, I think we have it handled just fine without adding another to the mix. But do explore the house while we wait for the rest of the guests."

As easily as Cecelia regarded Catrina in disdain, his mother released his fiancee from her stare with a dismissive grace that spoke volumes without even saying a word.

Dante stood stunned. His mother's actions were so out of place. Maybe not so much for helping in the kitchen, except for the fact that was the very first thing she invited his brothers' wives to do.

"Ma," Dante said, hoping his displeasure and warning was clear.

There wouldn't be a thing he could do about his mother's disapproval, but he couldn't stand for Cecelia to disrespect Catrina, especially not in front of others. If people saw his mother treating his future wife in a less than appropriate way, they would assume Catrina was unsuitable and act the same toward her.

Catrina shook her head slightly, tugging on Dante's hand gently to catch his attention. "It's fine, Dante. The house is beautiful, and I wanted to see the property in the back, anyway. Come find me when you're ready. Okay?"

"Sure."

Dante waited until he knew Catrina would be out of hearing range before he rounded on his mother.

"What was that, Ma?" Dante asked, his tone edged sharp like the blade of a knife.

Cecelia turned to bend down and check her oven, seemingly unbothered by her son's anger. "I don't know what you mean, Dante."

"That, with Catrina. What in the fuck-"

"Watch it," Antony muttered darkly, cocking a dark brow in caution.

Dante ignored his father. He was twenty-eight-years-old for Christ's sake; he wasn't going to tread around his father on light feet anymore. Antony would have to suck it up and deal with it. After all, he was the one who pushed Dante from his side.

But Dante was surprised as hell that his mother said nothing about foul language being used in her kitchen. That wasn't like her at all. When did he get dropped into the goddamn Twilight Zone?

His brothers and their wives had all but turned into stone, each sporting a mask of confusion and shock. No doubt they were just as unsure about Cecelia's strange manners as Dante was.

Cecelia popped back up, closing the oven door and tossing a dish towel to the counter. "Have you two picked a date?"

Dante blinked at the complete one-eighty his mother seemed to turn with that one question. "Seven weeks."

"So soon," Cecelia said quietly, giving Antony a look from across the room that voiced her unhidden displeasure.

Antony wouldn't meet her gaze.

"There isn't really a reason for us to hold it off and the sooner, the better," Dante said.

"Oh?"

"Yes."

"You're cutting it terribly close to Lent," Kim said.

Dante shrugged. "It's after, so nothing stops the ceremony in that regard."

Antony stood before sitting Johnathan in his bouncy chair. "Catholic doctrine requires six months couple's counseling before a ceremony can be performed. You know this."

"I'll handle it," Dante replied.

"How?" Cecelia asked.

"Lucian had his classes nearly tripled weekly to have his wedding when he wanted."

"I still did the classes," Lucian put in.

"And I needed to have my finishing rites before we could even begin the classes," Jordyn said.

Dante waved them off. "Giovanni didn't get married in the church at all and didn't have any trouble getting his marriage recognized by the bishop after you stepped in. It took you what, two weeks to get their marriage validated in the eyes of the church, Ma?"

Cecelia's gaze narrowed. "That wasn't the same and you know it."

Gio looked like he wanted to skip out of the room and as quickly as possible. "Keep my marriage out of this."

"Yes, please," Kim muttered as she rinsed off diced potatoes.

"I won't be asking Father Peter to ignore the required counseling, Dante," Cecelia said.

Dante shrugged. "I didn't say you had to. I said I would handle it."

"And I asked how."

"In whatever way I want to, Ma. It's like this, either you want me married in our church by the man who christened me or you don't. If you don't, then that's fine. I'll have the ceremony elsewhere and get a convalidation of marriage afterward. Honestly, that'd be a hell of a lot easier, and my marriage to Catrina won't be any less official by law because of where it takes place. That's all I need, Ma, just a marriage certificate and then everyone else will be satisfied I've done what they wanted."

Cecelia scowled. "Exactly, Dante. Everyone else will be so pleased."

"Dante has a point, Ma," Giovanni said. "His marriage can happen anywhere. And he's considered devout to the church. His convalidation will be easily granted with or without your input. I don't know what you want-"

"Shush," Cecelia ordered. "I am aware, but that doesn't mean I agree."

"You don't have to," Dante said.

"Catrina seems ... nice," Jordyn said softly, shrugging.

"Sure, if you've never seen her in action," Dante replied.

Lucian sighed, eyeing his wife. "Bella mia, Catrina is not your usual Catholic Italian, despite her accent and seemingly innocent face."

"So I've heard as well," Cecelia muttered, never taking her gaze off Dante.

"Is that your problem, Ma?" he asked.

"No. Look at my husband, Dante. Do you truly think that is what would bother me about her?"

"I don't understand," Kim said, giving Gio a look. "What's wrong with her?"

"For our kind of family? Not a lot, really. She's a Queen Pin, so the girl ought to fit right in at the dinner table without feeling out of place."

"Gio," Dante growled.

"Listen, asshole, my priorities don't include lying to my wife."

"Seriously?" Jordyn asked, her jaw falling slack. "Like, top of the food chain drug dealer?"

"S," Antony answered before anyone else could. "She's a very popular and successful one in her business because of her higher end clientele. That's not to say she doesn't have people on the streets, because clearly she does. Which was how she came to Dante's attention in the first place. At her age and without a family backing her trade, her accomplishments are quite a feat."

Antony flicked his hand in Jordyn and Kim's direction. "Now, move on from Catrina's profession please. We don't discuss business in the kitchen inside this home."

"Sorry," Kim and Jordyn mumbled together.

"Catrina is a hellish woman that I wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley," Giovanni said, making Lucian chuckle. "But she's exactly what Dante needs, both in his private life and business."

"Let's disagree on the private life, but I'll give you the business side of things," Dante said.

"Hey, I didn't say I liked her, man, just that she might work for you."

"We're not like that."

"Would you ever be?" Cecelia asked rather harshly.

Dante scoffed. "That is none of your concern, Ma."

Antony stepped in to block the glare Cecelia was leveling on Dante. Placing both his hands to the island countertop, he stared his wife head-on. "Enough, Cecelia."

Quietly, Lucian and Giovanni urged their wives out of the kitchen without a backward glance.

"This is all on you," Cecelia whispered to her husband. "You did this, and I am so angry with you for it, Antony."

"So be it, but you have to step back now, Tesoro."

"So angry," she repeated.

"Dante, go find your fiancee and give her our apologies for the awkwardness and rude behavior," Antony said without facing his son. "Do let Catrina know she will be treated with the utmost respect from this point on ... from everyone."

Whatever was going on between his parents, Dante didn't want to get in the middle of it, so he did what his father asked and left the kitchen. It didn't take him long to find Catrina. She sat on a couch in the family room and he joined her.

Dante cleared his throat, unnerved. "I apologize for what happened in there, Catrina. Cecelia isn't ... that's not my mother. She doesn't act like that. Not usually."

Catrina shrugged, tilting her head to the side. Her gaze shimmered, full of mirth. "Oh, I think that's exactly who your mother is. Not that I mind, naturally."

"What?"

"She's your mamma, Dante. Of course, she isn't going to approve or be happy with your choice in marrying me."

Dante leaned back into the couch and rubbed at his forehead, willing the ache that was starting up to leave. "You don't understand. Listen, Cecelia is typically sweet-natured and polite. She never outright disrespects people, even the ones she hates. And believe me, there are a few of those."

"Hmm, no, you clearly don't understand. Being your mother, she wants you to be happy."

"So?"

"So, she knows I don't make you happy, bello. Not truly. Not in the way her husband makes her happy, or the way your brothers' wives make them happy. There is no love here between you and me, not like they have. I make her sad for you, and by default, that makes her angry with me."

Well, shit.

"It really is okay, Dante," Catrina said with a quiet sigh. "I would expect nothing different from a woman of Cecelia's standing. Honestly, I respect her for it."

"Cristo, why? That was awful, Cat."

"Because, she gave me her feelings face up from the start. She didn't hide behind a mask or the civilities and courtesies of her raising. I would prefer to know where I stand with your mother right from the start rather than wonder only to be stabbed in the back later. Believe me, this is better and easier for us both."

Dante groaned when the doorbell to the house rang out. "Great. Let the hell begin."

Catrina patted his knee, smirking. "Oh, I think the rest will go much easier. And I would be willing to bet with others around, your mother will be a lot less likely to try and take a bite out of me or you. Let's go. Time to make face."

After the food had long been served and Catrina was formally introduced to the most important Marcello people as Dante's future wife, their Sunday dinner guests milled about the home. Dante relaxed with others around, surprisingly. His family and the friends of the Marcellos seemed to accept Catrina with little questions asked. Not that it was their place to.

Leaning against the family room wall, Dante watched the snow fall in puffy drifts through the large, bay window as he drank from a tumbler half filled with vodka. He somehow managed not to turn rigid with his remaining irritation when his mother sidled in beside him.

"I will talk to Father Peter," Cecelia said.

Dante tipped his glass up to sip the vodka. He wasn't in the mood to have another argument with his mother, so he chose to fill his mouth full of alcohol instead of snapping at her like he first wanted to.

"He should be the one to marry you, I agree."

"I figured you would, but given the position we're putting him in with the shortened timeline and the fact I don't want a traditional Mass ceremony, he might refuse and demand the deacon do the service instead."

"We're Marcellos. He's not going to refuse once I speak to him, believe me." Cecelia frowned. "And I'm sorry for how I acted earlier."

"Are you really or are you just being polite?" Dante asked.

"You're my son. It's not required of me to be polite to you just because, Dante. You, on the other hand, are required to be respectful to me always."

Fair enough.

Dante put his anger in check and gave his mother the respect he owed her. "I know you don't approve."